


what are you thinking about?

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe, Human AU, no sburb session
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-24
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 10:16:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who is this irresistible creature who has an insatiable love for the dead?</p><p> </p><p>  <i>Living Dead Girl!</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	what are you thinking about?

**Author's Note:**

> Please ignore my painfully obvious Rob Zombie reference in the title and summary. I've just been listening to that song on repeat basically the entire time I've been writing this.

At first, she's just a background character in the story of your life. Someone who smiles at you as you walk by, barely earning a split second of your attention. You hardly make note of her face, just picking up on the large grin on her bright red lips. You don't give her anymore thought, and you're sure she does the same for you. 

Months go by, and she's eliminated from your memory like steam rising into the air, never to be seen again.

Of course, steam condenses and becomes water, rushing back down to Earth in the form of rain.

Soon, she keeps coming into your life when you least expect it. And, you'd learn to love her spontaneous appearances.

The first time, you're walking through a dim forest at twilight, taking photos of whatever strikes your fancy- which, admittedly, isn't much. You continue your walk, stepping over branches and attempting to keep a relative silence, in case something actually exciting finds it's way to you. Suddenly, you hear a rustle not far to your right. Your first instinct is to run, to get away from the axe murderer or bear. But you remain calm, because if you were going to die here, you would've already. Right? Your attempts to reassure yourself are weak at best, and you eventually just swallow the twinge of panic down, to rest in your stomach.

You're about to push a branch aside to get a better look at what's over there when a sound stops you. It's someone talking, in a soft, sweet, feminine voice with a hint of an accent that you can't quite pin. What was someone, presumably a girl, doing in the woods at night? And, who was she talking to? Like the idiot you are, you decide to find out, sincerely hoping it's not some quirky teenage couple trying to get creative with their sexual endeavours. 

"Yo," you say, lifting your camera to show you mean no harm, and also in a half-assed attempt to protect your chest. "I dunno what you're doin' out here, but it's dark as shit and I can't see anything, so I was just thinkin' that maybe you an' I should get outta here before-" You stop talking when you finally get a good look at the girl. She's kneeling on the ground, holding something small and feathery in her hands. She tilts her head innocently up at you, and she looks so familiar, but you don't know where you've seen her. She laughs softly, gently setting the bird onto the ground and standing. The bird doesn't move.

 _Oh, god. She's killed it, and now she's going to kill you._  Your panicked mind races, and you back up a bit as she studies you.

"First of all, I am assuming the reason why it is so dark for you is simply because of the sunglasses that seem to obstruct your vision, because it's a full moon tonight and very bright out." She murmurs, smirking. You scoff, shaking your head. It'd be worse if she saw your eyes, which can be mistaken for a brown in the right lighting, but now, there's no doubt that they're bright fucking red. She just doesn't get it. She extends a hand towards you, and your veins flood with relief when you realize she's not covered in the blood of the poor avian creature by her feet. Your hand slides over to hers, and you shake like two new fathers waiting in the hospital waiting room: brisk, polite, and soon to be forgotten. 

"My name is Aradia, and yours is...?" She asks, and you're slightly taken aback by her monotone, that doesn't seem to match the grin on her face.

You smirk, tossing your hair lightly. "Dave." Her smile grows, and it's quite endearing, if not totally crazy.

Her arms fold over her chest, and she studies you for a while before speaking again. "Dave, you never finished your sentence earlier." She raises her eyebrows, shifting her weight to one side as she cocks her head the opposite way to stare at you. She's standing in a pose that would make most people look ridiculous, but she somehow manages to make it work. Maybe it's the long, curly mane of hair that falls down her back in cascades.

"What?" What were you saying? You can't even remember. Wait, oh. There it is. "I was sayin' that you an' I should head outta here before we're mauled by a fuckin' bear or hunted by Axe-Crazy Andy and his lovely wife Trigger-Happy Tammy." 

She rolls her eyes, though there's a slight smirk crossing her lips. "And I should trust the mysterious  _photographer_  that found me in the woods because...?"

You realize she has a good point, and you think over a reply for a little longer than you should've. "Because I trust you, mysterious maiden who was fondlin' a dead bird just now. Isn' that enough?" Suddenly, you're hyper-aware of your drawl, and you shut up. 

Aradia seems to contemplate that, nodding slowly. "Point taken. Though, I must clarify that I was not  _fondling_ it, I was seeing if it was really dead, and if I could preserve it and add it to my collection."

Wait, _what_?

Holy shit.

No way.

You can't help the grin that slides onto your features. "Holy shit, girl. Flip me over an' fuck me sideways, I think I just found my soulmate." At her confused expression, you continue. "I've collected dead things since I was little. Not very many birds, though. That shit just rubs me the wrong way." As you speak, she bends down and opens up a backpack you didn't realize she had. She pulls out a small shoebox, lifting the bird gently as though it's alive, placing it inside and back into her bag. You wince.

"I guess it's mine, then." She says with an air of finality that you don't bother to dispute. It's hers. End of story. The credits are rolling, get the fuck out of the theatre. 

She begins to walk in the opposite direction in which you came, giving you a dainty wave before she turns and leaves. "Aradia Megido," she calls. You commit that name to memory, even though you don't know why. You test the name on your lips, feeling it on your breath and tongue. You decide you like that name. A lot.

* * *

She occupies your mind for a long time before you see her again. This time, it's much different. And, maybe a little better, if you're honest.

**Author's Note:**

> hahaHAHAHAHA i dont even care anymore next chapter hERE wE COME


End file.
